A Thousand Times Enough
by thebridgeovertheriverkwai
Summary: Severus Snape and Hermione Granger are restoring broken wards two months after the Battle of Hogwarts when a tandem curse suddenly hits them. Will a counter curse be found or will they be forced to spend the rest of their lives in each other's company?
1. Chapter 1 - Picking Up the Pieces

As always - everything belongs to JK Rowling.

 **Chapter One**  
 **Picking up the Pieces**

Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was many things. A fighter and survivor of both the First and Second Wizarding War. A recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class. A member of the Order of the Phoenix. A fierce believer in right and wrong, and of law and order. And also, a woman who had loved and lost.

She closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on her breathing.

In. Out.

And then she focused on the small crowd before her.

A dozen folding chairs had been conjured up and placed in a half moon circle before the dais at the front of the Great Hall, and the people currently sitting on them looked tired and worn. Tired and worn but with a glint in their eyes. McGonagall had seen that glint before. It had many names, but _survivor's fire_ was perhaps the most fitting. She supposed she had it too. That burning yearning to be a part of something that would make her feel whole again. They were all there to mend some part of themselves, in whatever way they could.

Neville Longbottom sat next Luna Lovegood and, a little surprisingly, her father. Filius Flitwick fiddled with his moustache, whispering something to Pomona Sprout, who nodded gravely. Hagrid took up two chairs at the end, glancing around the Great Hall, teary-eyed. McGongall briefly met Poppy Pomfrey's gaze. The matron gave her a half-smile before turning to Hagrid, telling him something McGonagall couldn't make out and then patting him on the hand.

Harry Potter sat beside Ginny Weasley, and next to her was Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, holding hands. All four of them looked up at McGonagall expectantly. She let her eyes wander to Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan and Cho Chang.

A warm breeze came in through one of the broken windows, ruffling McGonagall's hair. It was the beginning of July. Two months had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, and the last time she had seen all of them together had been at Remus Lupin's and Nymphadora Tonk's funeral.

McGonagall fought off another wave of emotions and shook her head slightly. She clapped her hands. "Settle down, please," she said, a slight tremble sneaking its way into her voice.

The crowd immediately faced forward and a heavy silence fell over the room.

"I have invited you here tonight to start off the–" she glanced around the hall "– quite immense task of restoring and rebuilding Hogwarts."

"I won't lie to you," McGonagall continued. "It's not without difficulty … seeing all of you. In this place. Again."

She heard a couple of sniffs, and in the corner of her eye she saw Xenophilius Lovegood put an arm around his daughter.

"This very hall is filled with memories. Horrible memories," she said. "But also, _happy_ memories. _Good_ memories. We must let those memories live on. _Hogwarts_ must live on.

And we owe it to–" her voice broke "– all of the ones we have lost to make that happen."

She paused, frowning. "But heaven knows how we're going to be able to open the school again in just two months."

"Don't ye worry, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid burst out, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his moleskin coat. "We'll spruce this ol' place up in no time. You'll see!"

"Right you are, Hagrid!" said Professor Flitwick in his squeaky little voice. "No time, at all!"

McGonagall looked both pleased and slightly annoyed at the same time. "Right. Thank you," she mumbled. "Good. Then I suppose we'll just …"

She gestured towards the rubble and scraps and bricks and stones and broken windows and ripped hangings and dismembered armor. "Sort this mess out."

 **ooo**

Not knowing where to begin herself, McGonagall stayed in the Great Hall, tending to the large glass windows behind the staff table. She muttered an incantation under her breath and the small glass panes reformed, one by one. Waves rippled through them, and then stilled, as the pieces slowly came together. She was nearly finished when a voice in her ear made her jump.

"How may I be of assistance, Headmistress?"

"Severus!" McGonagall spun around. "What are you doing out of bed?" she said sharply. "You should be resting!"

"I have done enough resting for a lifetime," said Snape, with a slight curl to his upper lip. "Give me something to do, or I shall go mad."

"Spare me the dramatics," said McGonagall. "It hasn't even been a fortnight since you woke up from—"

"Nevertheless," Snape broke in. "If I am well enough to be walking around, then I am well enough to be put to use." He pulled out his wand, finishing the last window panes.

McGonagall arched an eyebrow, watching his wandwork irritably. "Who said you were well enough to be walking around?" she asked, not trusting this new information at all.

"Poppy," said Snape. "This morning."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Really?"

"You are free to cross-examine her to your heart's content, Headmistress—" he made a mock bow "—but as of today, I am free of the Infirmary." Snape grimaced slightly as he put away his wand. "If I never see those walls again, it will be too soon."

McGonagall peered over her glasses, contemplating him. "You're a grown man. If you say you're fine, that is good enough for me."

Snape shot her a sideways glance, and for a second McGonagall thought she saw a trace of agony in them. "I need to do _something_ ," he said quietly. "Anything."

"Fine." McGonagall spread her arms. "I do have something that cannot be left unattended for much longer," she said, motioning for him to follow her.

"The castle's wards need to be restored where they've been penetrated and broken," she told him. "And that's in quite a few places. Especially in the courtyard. I'm not even sure if we are completely invisible to Muggles anymore."

She stopped in front of the double oak doors leading out to the Entrance Hall. One of them had almost been blasted off its hinges, and was leaning dangerously forward. "Unbelievable," she muttered. "There is so much work to be done. But no rest for the weary, I suppose."

Snape nodded. "I'll start right away," he said and made to walk away, but McGonagall gripped his elbow, forcing him to a sudden halt. "Maybe I was unclear?" She gave him a pointed look. "You most certainly will not do it alone."

 **ooo**

Hermione Granger watched her two former professors from afar as she levitated wood and rubble into a pile. They seemed to be arguing over something, and McGonagall was holding onto Snape like her life depended on it. Snape had his trademark sneer plastered on his face and was glaring at McGonagall.

Hermione turned her attention back to the pile and mumbled _Evanesco,_ making it disappear.

She glanced over at Snape again. He was as pale as she remembered him, and thin, wearing his usual black frock coat and billowing robes, even though it was a warm summer's day. His hair was at shoulder length and as greasy as ever. The only thing disturbing his otherwise familiar appearance was a thick bandage wrapped around his neck. It looked uncomfortable, sticking out from underneath his collar.

Hermione knew he had survived Nagini's attack and that he had been hospitalized, first at St Mungo's and then at Hogwarts. It was strange and … frankly, a little unsettling, seeing him again. She shuddered, as horrible images of him lying on the dusty floor in the Shrieking Shack, bleeding and dying, flooded her mind.

McGonagall suddenly moved away from Snape, her eyes sweeping the room, and before Hermione could look away, the Headmistress called for her.

"Ah, Miss Granger!" She waved impatiently. "Will you come here for a minute?"

Hermione smiled uncertainly, not really wanting to go over there at all. She moved across the floor, stopping in front of them.

"I'm fairly certain I can take care of it myself," said Snape to McGonagall, as soon as Hermione was in earshot. "There is no need to call in a … war hero," he drawled.

Hermione felt a pang of irritation. "I think that title applies to you as well, Professor Snape," she said. "And _hello_. I wasn't expecting to see you here tonight. I'm a little surprised, to be honest. You look rather well."

Snape shot her a look of disgust.

"Sir," Hermione added quickly.

"Let the girl continue with whatever inane task she was doing," said Snape to McGonagall. "I assure you, I—"

"That's enough," McGonagall cut off. "You're barely back on your feet, and Miss Granger is more than capable to assist you."

"I beg to differ," Snape ground out.

McGonagall fixed him with a stare. "I am not arguing with you on this subject, Severus. You are wasting my time, and everyone else's. You will either accept help, or _leave_."

Snape looked like somebody had just slapped him in the face. He gave McGonagall a stiff nod.

"Good," said McGonagall, turning her attention to Hermione.

"I have absolutely _no_ idea what you are talking about," said Hermione, making the Headmistress chuckle.

"The wards need to be restored," said McGonagall. "They are fairly straightforward. The trick is to figure out where they have been broken, and then pick up the threads from there. It is almost like stitching, you patch them up as you go along. Severus knows the procedure. Once you have found the cracks, he'll show you how to repair them."

And with that, Snape turned on his heels, stalking away from them, leaving Hermione no choice but to follow.

She caught up with him at the entrance to the courtyard, just as Harry and Ron passed by, carrying a large cage of owls between them.

"Hey!" said Ron, looking from Hermione to Snape, then back to Hermione. "Where are you two going?"

"To restore the wards," said Hermione, and shook her head in a _'let's talk about this later_ '-kind of way.

"You and _him_?" said Ron disbelievingly, adjusting the weight of the cage. "Then we'll come too."

"I think not, Weasley," scoffed Snape. "One third of the Golden Trio is quite enough."

Hermione shot him a glare. "Don't call—"

"Come on, Ron," said Harry impatiently, sweat beads forming on his forehead. "I'm losing my grip here."

"But—" Ron began, trying to talk over the loud hooting coming from inside the cage. "Bloody owls," he said. "We'll catch up with you later, then!"


	2. Chapter 2 - Not Like Stitching at All

**Chapter Two**  
 **Not Like Stitching at All**

Hermione stood in the middle of the courtyard watching Snape watching the sky. This had been going on for the last ten minutes, and Hermione was growing increasingly uncomfortable. The silence that ensued after Ron and Harry had left had been palpable, and Snape had in no way, shape or form invited her into whatever it was he was doing.

"Professor–"

"Silence!" barked Snape.

So, there she stood. Another five minutes passed. Suddenly Snape muttered something under his breath and turned towards her.

"This is worse than I thought," he said. "It might be better to just redo the whole bloody thing."

Hermione squinted at the sky, seeing absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. "Or we could give it a try?" she suggested. "If you would just tell me what to do."

Snape looked at her like she had gone insane. "Do you have any idea, _any idea_ , of what kind of magic this requires?"

"Well, no–"

He began walking away from her. "My point exactly," he said over his shoulder. "A Grindylow would be more helpful than you, at this point. Or a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Or maybe even a decent shaped rock–"

Hermione threw her arms up in frustration. "Fine!" she yelled at his back. "Would a Blast-Ended Skrewt ask you which protections we're trying to fix?" She started counting off spells. "The _Protego Horribilis_? The _Protego Maxima_? The _Fianto Duri_? Or the _Repello Inimincum_? Because I know all of them!"

Snape stopped in his tracks, turning slightly. "What did you say?"

"I know all of them," Hermione repeated stubbornly.

Snape went quiet, then turned around fully. "All of those spells were used to keep Voldemort and his Death Eaters out during the battle," he said, slowly making his way back to where she was standing. "And all of them have been taken down. It is the _original_ safety wards we are trying to restore." He scoffed. "We do not want every mushroom-picking, dilly-dallying Muggle to disintegrate on the spot just because they happen to stroll by the castle."

"Right," said Hermione, feeling a little foolish. "So … Basic protective spells then?" She frowned. "I used a couple of them in the Forest of Dean, when we were on the run."

Snape gave her a peculiar look. "Which ones?" he said finally.

"Eh, well, there's the _Protego Totalum_ , the _Salvio Hexia_ , and the _Repello Muggletum_ ," she said. "And the _Muffliato_ , of course." She stopped, thinking hard. "And I also used a Disillusionment Charm."

"How ambitious," sneered Snape. "Now imagine all of them, _combined_."

"Oh," said Hermione.

"Oh, indeed," said Snape, mimicking her voice. "But if you're feeling so confident, Miss Granger, maybe we _should_ give it a try." He drew out his wand, pointing at the sky right above them. "We wouldn't want those extraordinary talents of yours go to waste, now would we?"

"I never said I had any extraordinary talents," mumbled Hermione.

Snape ignored her, shouting an incantation she didn't recognize. A large part of the sky sprang to life, suddenly glowing an angry shade of red, displaying countless of zigzag patterns running across it.

"There. Feel free to begin whenever you are ready," drawled Snape, and stepped away.

"I'm not sure I …" Hermione started, a feeling of uncertainty taking hold of her.

"All talk, and absolutely no inclination of following through," said Snape silkily. "How shocking."

"I'll do it, just, eh, wait." Hermione paused slightly as she ran through possible spells in her head. She focused her wand on what she supposed was one of the ruptures, and started whispering incantations.

Nothing happened.

She tightened the grip on her wand, and kept going. And then, slowly, slowly, the sky changed color. Hermione watched as the broken defense shield changed from bright red, to icy blue, to grey, then becoming almost translucent, merging, changing, and then, with a small pop, it disappeared altogether, showing only bright blue skies where the shield once had been.

Hermione smiled, a victorious feeling rumbling in her chest.

Snape, however, looked unimpressed, and, quite frankly, a bit bored. "Congratulations," he said. "You have successfully managed to eviscerate a significant portion of the wards, instead of repairing it."

Hermione's face fell.

"Let's try this one, shall we?" said Snape and pointed his wand at the sky once more. This time, a part almost as big as the courtyard itself went a dark shade of grey, and instead of zigzags, there were black cracks lining the whole of the surface.

Hermione reflexively raised her wand, but before she had time to utter a single syllable, a lightning shaped beam shot out from one of the cracks and connected forcefully with her hand. A pain she had never felt before ripped through her body, making her roar in agony.  
 **  
**"Stupid girl!" She heard Snape bellow from a distance. "You're not supposed to—"

When she didn't think she could bear any more pain, a blinding flash of white light exploded in the skies, hitting her with such force she flew across the courtyard, crashing into the wall on the opposite side. And then, everything went black.

 **ooo**

"What _exactly_ are you doing, Mr. Finnegan?" McGonagall stopped short, watching with trepidation as Seamus Finnegan threw all of his weight at a big piece of rock, blocking a classroom door in one of the hallways near the Grand Staircase.

"I've been trying to get this bloody thing to move for the last thirty minutes!" Seamus said, breathlessly. "It won't budge!"

"I see," said McGonagall, pursing her lips. "Well, have you tried a more conventional way of removing it?"

Seamus wiped his forehead with his sleeve. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake," McGonagall said exasperatedly. "Use your wand!"

Seamus smiled sheepishly at McGonagall and then reached down to fetch his wand from his pocket. "I was going to, I was just testing—" he started, but was drowned out by an ear-deafening BOOM, knocking him off his feet.

People around them started to shout and scream. Dean Thomas threw himself over Cho Chang, trying to protect her.

"Bloody hell! What was THAT?" yelled Seamus, as he scrambled up from the floor, his eyes darting around wildly.

"Death Eaters!" screamed Cho Chang. "Out in the courtyard!"

McGonagall went impossibly pale. "All of you, stay here!" she called out sharply and hauled up her skirts, darting towards the explosion.

"Professor McGonagall! Wait!" roared Seamus Finnegan, stumbling over to where Dean was lying on the ground, hoisting him up to his feet. "We need to help her!" he panted, and together they tore after her.

McGonagall's heart was pounding so aggressively she could feel it in her throat, as she sprinted down the corridors. She had never really gotten used to the sickly, metallic taste of fear. The Battle of Hogwarts haunted her relentlessly at night, and she was terrified, absolutely terrified, of whatever scene was waiting for her now.

She turned a corner and scurried through the entrance to the courtyard, only to come to a screeching halt. There were no Death Eaters. No attack. Only two bodies, lying impossibly still on the stone floor.

"No," she gasped. "No."

"HERMIONE!" a voice bellowed from behind her, belonging to Ron Weasley, who came rushing through the arched doorway, quickly followed by Harry Potter, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan. Ron threw himself on the ground next to Hermione, shouting her name over and over again.

McGonagall dropped down beside him, checking Hermione's pulse, then turned to Snape, checking his. "They're alive, she said shakily. "Just."

Hermione had a long gash across her cheek that was oozing of blood, and it seemed like Snape's left arm was broken in several places. Bone fragments was sticking out of his elbow.

"We need to get them to the Infirmary, immediately!" shouted McGonagall as she conjured up two stretchers out of thin air, quickly levitating both Hermione and Snape onto them.

"Potter, Weasley!" she said. "Quickly! Follow me!"

 **ooo**

The Infirmary was eerily quiet, except for the sound of Hermione Granger's soft breathing. In the cot next to her lay Severus Snape.

It was well into the night, and everyone else had gone to bed. McGonagall and Poppy Pomfrey, however, had stayed, taking shifts, watching over the two unconscious figures. They were alive, and that was all that mattered.

"I have done everything I can, for now," said Madam Pomfrey finally, clutching her charts to her chest. "We'll just have to wait and see."

McGonagall nodded, almost invisibly, her eyes red-rimmed from crying.

"What happened?" she whispered. "What in Merlin's name _happened_ out there?"

Madam Pomfrey put an arm around McGonagall's shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze.

"We'll find out once they wake up, Minerva dear," she said softly.

" _If_ ," said McGonagall, her voice wavering. " _If_ they wake up." A tear ran down her cheek. "Oh, Poppy," she said. "This is all my fault."


	3. Chapter 3 - We Need Help

**Chapter Three  
We Need Help**

One week passed.

Two weeks passed.

When four weeks had passed without any signs of Hermione or Snape waking up, Madam Pomfrey was starting to lose hope. She had tried everything, and nothing had worked. It was a horrible sort of status quo, a status quo she was particularly reluctant in sharing with the Headmistress.

McGonagall was spending almost as much time in the Infirmary as Madam Pomfrey, and the matron was getting increasingly worried about the amount of blame McGonagall seemed to put on herself. On top of it all, fall was rapidly approaching, and with it, the start of term. Most of the staff had now moved back into the castle, and had, in a group effort, helped finish the last of the restorations.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, well into week six, when something finally happened.

Madam Pomfrey was doing her usual rounds, which basically meant checking that Hermione and Snape still breathed and had pulse, in-between paperwork and preparing for the new school year.

She bent over Hermione and tucked away a stray curl behind the younger woman's ear. Sighing loudly, her eyes flitted across the colorful get well-cards on Hermione's bedside table. A bright red one, with a moving and pulsating heart on the front, stood out from the rest. Madam Pomfrey knew it had Ron Weasley's signature written inside it.

Snape's table was empty, except for a single card from the Headmistress.

Madam Pomfrey watched Hermione's chest rise and fall, lost in thought.

Suddenly, there was a ruffling sound behind her. She whipped around and saw Snape, struggling to sit up in his bed, looking disgruntled and disoriented.

"I loathe this place," he coughed out. "I absolutely loathe it."

"Yes, yes," said Poppy excitedly, immediately at his side, helping him to sit up straight. "But you're alive!"

She quickly cast a couple of diagnostic spells, frowned, and then cast some more. "It still looks like … like you have contracted something extraordinarily foul, both of you have, I am sorry to say, Severus, but at least you're awake, unlike—" She glanced over at Hermione, who was sound asleep.

"How do you feel?" she asked, as she turned back to Snape, masking any kind of concern, and giving him a genuine smile.

"Fantastic," grunted Snape. "Never better."

"Don't be smart with me." Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips. "I've been looking after you day and night, you know," she said. "We didn't know if you would wake up at all," she added softly. "Are you in any pain?"

Snape closed his eyes. "No," he said slowly. "I feel … fine." He flexed his left arm. "Somewhat stiff." He looked at Madam Pomfrey. "Something has happened to my arm."

"It was broken," she answered. "In ten places."

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"So, yes, some amount of stiffness is to be expected," said Madam Pomfrey and reached out to touch Snape's forehead. He immediately swatted her hand away.

"Enough," he said with a grimace, swinging his legs off the bed.

"Stop!" Madam Pomfrey gave him a look of utter disbelief. "What do you think you're doing? You can't leave! You aren't well enough!"

"Well, I most certainly cannot stay," scoffed Snape. He stood up, swaying slightly on the spot.

"Severus," said Madam Pomfrey pleadingly. "Let me at least—"

But Snape didn't listen. He took a couple of careful steps towards the doors. "I don't need your doting, Poppy. You know where to find me, but …" He paused for a moment, seemingly collecting himself. "I rather you did not."

 **ooo**

Five minutes later, the door to Madam Pomfrey's office flew open.

"He woke _up_?" McGonagall stepped into the small space, her nostrils flaring.

Madam Pomfrey put down her quill and looked up from behind her desk. "My Patronus found you then, I take it."

"I was away for _two_ hours!" McGonagall made a sound of frustration. "Not a single sign for _six_ weeks! Not one! And the man insists on waking up when I am not here!" She sat down hard in the chair opposite Madam Pomfrey. "Why on earth didn't you stop him?"

"A Quidditch pitch full of Aurors couldn't have stopped him," said Madam Pomfrey indignantly. "Let alone me." She gestured towards a teapot and an empty cup on her desk. "Please help yourself to some tea."

McGonagall glared at the teapot. "I fail to see how tea will make any difference."

"Tea _always_ makes the difference, Minerva."

Silence stretched between the women as McGonagall finally gave in and poured herself a cup. She took a small sip. "And Hermione?" she asked.

"Nothing." Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Not a—" But before she could finish the sentence, an ear-piercing scream cut through the Infirmary. Both women jumped to their feet simultaneously, rushing out the door.

They found Hermione thrashing around violently in her bed, gasping for breath, her eyes shut tight.

"Hermione!" said McGonagall loudly, trying to hold onto the younger woman's arm. "You are safe! In the Infirmary, at Hogwarts!"

Hermione's eyes fluttered open. She stared wildly around her. "Hurts—" she croaked, choking on her words.

"Don't say anything, dear," said Madam Pomfrey soothingly, momentarily confused by the empty cup of tea she still held clasped in her hand. She quickly put it away. "You have been unconscious for a long time."

Hermione looked at McGonagall and then at Madam Pomfrey, panic in her eyes.

"I will get her some Calming Draught," mumbled Madam Pomfrey and hurried over to a cabinet. She rummaged around for a bit and then came back with a small vial.

"You have been through a terrible ordeal, Miss Granger," she said. "This should help you relax." She unscrewed the cork and put the vial in Hermione's shaking hand, nodding encouragingly as the younger woman put it to her lips.

"There, that should do it," said McGonagall, not sounding convinced at all.

The Calming Draught kicked in almost instantly, making Hermione slouch back into her pillows, her eyes glazing over.

There was a soft knock on the front doors. They opened, and Ronald Weasley's familiar face peered inside.

"Eh, hello," said Ron breathlessly. "I heard Snape had woken up, so I thought maybe … maybe Hermione had woken up too." He took one uncertain step into the room.

"Ron?" said Hermione in a small voice, turning her head towards him.

"I'm here," he said quietly, making his way over to Hermione's bed. He sat down beside her, taking her hand in his. "I can't believe you're awake."

"How did you know about professor Snape, Ronald?" asked Madam Pomfrey in surprise.

Ron shrugged, a small blush spreading across his face. "I met Hagrid on the way from Hogsmeade, and he said that he probably was going mad because he thought he had seen Snape—"

" _Professor_ Snape," said Hermione weakly.

"Eh, yeah. Right," said Ron. "So, I just started running," he continued, not taking his eyes off Hermione. "I wanted to see if it was true."

The two older women shared an understanding look. McGonagall cleared her throat. "Maybe you should stay with her for a while then," she said, and gave him a pat on the back. "We will give you some privacy." She beckoned for the matron the follow her. "Come Poppy."

"I will have the house elves bring you some food," said Madam Pomfrey to Ron. "Should she want any." She gave him a pointed look. "And call on me if anything happens. _Anything_. I mean it."

Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall retreated to the office once more. Madam Pomfrey transfigured a new cup from a glass paper weight and proceeded to pour fresh tea into their cups. It was already dark outside, but neither of the women took any notice.

"I won't lie, Minerva. I really don't know what to make of this," Madam Pomfrey said thoughtfully. "I haven't seen anything like it." She stirred her tea. "Hermione waking up only minutes after Severus... As if she somehow, unconsciously, could sense he had gone."

"That's impossible," said McGonagall.

"Of course," said Madam Pomfrey quickly. "It was just a thought."

Half an hour later, McGonagall was getting ready to return to her office. "It's getting late," she said, massaging her neck. "I doubt I will be of much use in this state."

"I should check on Miss Granger," said Madam Pomfrey. "I will follow you out."

But as soon as they stepped through the door and into the ward, Madam Pomfrey sensed that something was wrong. She hurried over to Hermione, who looked pale and feverish. Next to her, Ron had fallen asleep in his chair.

McGonagall gave Ron's shoulder a forceful prod. "You were supposed to watch her!"

"Wha—" said Ron groggily. He straightened up, rubbing at his eyes. "I must've fallen asleep."

"Clearly," said McGonagall.

"I don't know what's happening," said Madam Pomfrey, as she began muttering spells, her wand twirling in her hand. "She's slipping in and out of consciousness." She turned angrily towards Ron. "Has she been like this the whole time?"

"No!" he said defensively. "I mean, she was fine, until … I don't know, I don't think I've been sleeping that long!"

"You utter fool!" snapped McGonagall.

"Minerva!" Madame Pomfrey admonished, pulling her to the side. She glanced over at Ron, shaking her head. "It's him," she whispered. "I think he's making her worse."

McGonagall clenched her teeth. "Again, that is impossible."

"It's the only way I can explain it," said Madam Pomfrey impatiently.

"We need to fetch Severus," said McGonagall.

"And send Weasley home," added Madam Pomfrey, leaving no room for argument.

 **ooo**

Snape arrived shortly after, panting slightly. His face was ashen and wet with sweat.

"What is this about?" he demanded, but his voice lacked its usual venom.

"Severus!" Madam Pomfrey hurried over to him. "You look awful!" she said, horrified.

Snape ignored the matron's outburst and turned to McGonagall. "Why am I here, Headmistress?"

"I need you to sit down," said McGonagall. "Miss Granger woke up about an hour ago, but instead of getting better, it seems her condition is getting worse."

"And this affects me how exactly?" drawled Snape.

"You two share this illness and we need to get to the bottom of it," snarled McGonagall. "Now _sit_ , or Merlin forbid, I will make you!" She whipped out her wand, and for a second, something akin to fear flitted across Snape's features. McGonagall only shook her head as she pointed it to the chair Ron had been sitting on, transfiguring it into a purple armchair.

Snape sat down unsteadily, shooting a glance at the woman in the bed. She seemed to be in a deep sleep, her breathing shallow and rapid.

He exhaled silently. Ten minutes ago, he had been short of breath himself, and he had been feeling dizzy and nauseous ever since he woke up. The stairs to the Infirmary had been a nightmare. He breathed in deeply, feeling infinitely better _. It was as if … as if._ He shook his head and rubbed at his chest distractedly, overwhelmed by a sudden wave of sleepiness.

Just before Snape drifted off to sleep, he caught a fragment of McGonagall's and Madam Pomfrey's hushed conversation. "Minerva," Snape heard Madam Pomfrey say. "It looks like Hermione's breathing has stabilized."

 **ooo**

Madam Pomfrey shut the door to her office for Merlin knows what time that day.

"I was wrong," she said quietly. "It wasn't the presence of Ronald Weasley that made her worse."

McGonagall looked at her colleague, then focused on a spot on the wall, near the window, almost as if she was afraid of the answer. "Then what was it?"

Madam Pomfrey stood completely still, going through the last two hours in her head. "I think … it was the absence of Severus."

McGonagall grimaced. "I hate to admit it," she said, shaking her head. "But we need help. Immediately."

"I'll send a Patronus to St Mungo's right away," said Madam Pomfrey, whipping out her wand.

 **ooo**

The response was immediate. The fireplace in Madam Pomfrey's office sprung to life mere minutes after she had sent her Patronus, and shortly after, two men came crashing through.

"Where are they?" barked an older gentleman, as soon as his feet touched the wooden floor.

"There's no need to shout," said McGonagall, clutching at her chest.

"I'll be the judge of that, madam," retorted the older man grimly.

"McGonagall," snapped McGonagall. "And it's not madam, it is—"

"Don't you think for _one_ second that I care about your title!" The man rounded on her. He had piercing blue eyes, and a large, hooked nose. His beard was snowy white and neatly trimmed, and he wore a thick brown suit underneath his robes.

"The damage you might have caused those two people!" He pointed in the direction of the door, red in the face from shouting. "They might already be beyond saving, for all I know!"

"Whatever do you mean?" McGonagall's eyebrows shot up, nearly touching her hairline.

"Six weeks!" the man continued. "Is this a _hospital_? Is this a _special ward_?"

"I assure you, Poppy Pomfrey is—"

"The answer is _no_!" The man glared at McGonagall. "You've singlehandedly undermined my whole profession!" He waved his hand impatiently. "Enough of this. Just take me to them."

When McGonagall didn't move, Madam Pomfrey quietly opened the door and showed him outside. McGonagall stayed behind, closing her eyes.

"I'm sorry about that, madam—McGonagall. Headmistress," the younger man said nervously. "I'm Gilbert Moss, junior assistant to …" He shot a glance at the now wide open door. "Ralph Kimper. We're here to help. I'm not sure he made that point quite clear." He gave her a tentative smile. "And if anyone can sort this out, it's Ralph. He's the leading specialist in spell damage, he is."

McGonagall snorted. "Is he now?"

 **ooo**

"That's Hermione Granger," Madam Pomfrey whispered, pointing towards the cot where Hermione lay sleeping. "And that's Severus Snape."

Snape's head lolled forward, almost touching his chest, as light snores escaped from his lips.

"Good," murmured Kimper.

"Good?" said McGonagall, who had now joined them. "This is anything but _good_."

"It's good that they're _both_ here," said Kimper, emphasizing every word. "It's a tandem curse," he muttered, beckoning the group away from Snape and Hermione so they could talk freely. "That much is obvious." He stroked his beard. "I've come across it a couple of times before. The effects are horrendous. And the counter curse is hard to procure."

"What-what do we do?" Poppy said, her voice wavering.

"First of all," Kimper said. "They need to be as close to each other as they can, until we've found the counter curse. When the curse hatches—"

"Hatches!" Madam Pomfrey shrieked in alarm, putting one hand over her mouth.

"Well, yes," said Kimper, shooting a glance at Snape and Hermione. "The caster of the curse usually plants it somewhere in the open, somewhere easily spotted. Then someone well-meaning comes along and tries to break it, unaware that the curse will do the exact opposite. It hatches, or buries itself, in the nearest living thing, you see. In this case him." He nodded towards Snape. "And your Miss Granger, there." Kimper scratched his nose. "If those living things are too far apart, the curse tries to bring its pieces together." He pulled out a small plastic bag of tobacco, putting a piece of it under his upper lip. "Nasty piece of dark magic, this is."

McGonagall looked at the bag, and then at Mr Kimper's lip, frowning in disgust. Mr Kimper ignored her. "See to it that Miss Granger and Mr—"

" _Professor_ Snape," said Madam Pomfrey.

Kimper stopped for a fraction of a second. "Right, Professor Snape …" He trailed off, turning to his assistant. "Gil, this is more urgent than I thought. Send your Patronus to our headquarters right this minute."

Gilbert nodded and walked away.

Kimper pulled out a quill from his robes and scribbled something on a piece of parchment. "As I said. They need to be in the same vicinity, at the very least. That will make them feel … alright. The further away they are from each other, the worse the effects will be."

"What happens if … if they—" Madam Pomfrey broke off.

"Usually the curse starts eating away at its host from the inside," Kimper said. "An awfully painful procedure. Eventually they… well, there's no nice way of putting it. They die."

Madame Pomfrey gasped.

"Look," said Kimper. "I understand that this is shocking, and that it will be certain ... problems connected to this, but you'll have to find a way to inform them of the situation. It's crucial that the stay together." He put away his quill and parchment. "If they want to live, that is, and most of us do," he said off-handedly. "But we will do our outmost to find a counter curse, I promise you that."

Madme Pomfery nodded, not wanting to meet his eyes.

Kimper looked at her, almost sadly. "Body contact sometimes makes it easier."

Madam Pomfrey let out a yelp. "What!"

"Nothing like that, mind you." Kimper held up his hands. "But if they feel overwhelmed by the side effects … Nausea, rashes and such, it helps to, for instance, hold hands."

Madam Pomfrey paled visibly. "Day and night?" she whispered.

"It varies," answered Kimper. "Depending on how long they've been subjected to the curse. In some rare cases, the victims can be apart for hours without being sick. But in most cases, there's a rather rigid timeframe."

He gave Madam Pomfrey an apologetic look. "And, eh, I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier. I'm sure you do a splendid job here." He turned to McGonagall. "But if you had contacted us earlier, this might have been solved already."


	4. Chapter 4 - A Conversation the Headmistr

**Chapter Four**  
 **A Conversation the Headmistress Didn't Want to Have at All**

"So…" said McGonagall thoughtfully, shooting a quick glance at the two people in front of her. She rifled through a stack of papers on her desk, frowned and stopped.

It was early in the morning, and from what McGonagall had heard from Madam Pomfrey, both Snape and Hermione had slept peacefully through the night.

A ray of sunshine shone through one of the windows in the Headmistress' office, the light falling over McGonagall's desk and her slightly shaking hands. She quickly hid them in her lap. How many times hadn't _she_ been sitting in this very office herself, waiting, and often nervously, for Albus Dumbledore to share news and information with _her_? She looked at his picture on the wall. But as per usual, the former Headmaster was fast asleep and of absolutely no help to her.

McGonagall's eyes trailed to Hermione, and she watched the girl anxiously fiddling with the hem of her robes. Snape sat completely still, waiting. McGonagall met his eyes briefly, then tried to give him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

McGonagall opened her mouth again, but the words kept escaping from her. She wasn't as eloquent as Albus, had never been, and although much could be said about the late Headmaster, in situations like these, he had been unsurpassable

"Professor," said Hermione suddenly, breaking the silence. " _What_ is going on?"

McGonagall exhaled. "Well, Miss Granger, Severus," she said, nodding to Hermione, then turning her head towards Snape, giving him a nod as well. "There have been some complications." She swallowed quietly. "It seems as if … you two have been connected to each other."

Hermione's mouth fell open. " _What?_ " she said shrilly, gripping the chair arms. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm not sure how to—"

" _Connected?_ " Hermione interrupted. "How is that even possible?"

"If you would just let me explain," said McGonagall, faltering.

"But _how_?" Hermione continued relentlessly, her voice strained. "Is it like… like a _bond_?"

"Maybe not quite like a bond," said McGonagall. "But almost."

"No!" spat Snape. "There is absolutely no resemblance between whatever _this_ —he gestured angrily between himself and Hermione—is, and a _true_ bond." He glared at McGonagall. "I have some experience in that particular area, if you care to remember."

"Of course," said McGonagall quickly. "Severus is right. It's not a bond, per se. Not like the ones I'm assuming you are thinking of, Miss Granger?" She looked at Hermione over the rim of her horned-rimmed glasses.

"I-I only know two types of bonding charms," said Hermione, shaking her head disbelievingly. "The Bond of Blood charm and the Unbreakable Vow."

Snape scoffed.

" _What_?" snarled Hermione, turning to Snape.

"Two very good examples, indeed," said McGonagall hurriedly, shooting Snape a disapproving look. "The difference is that this connection has been _forced_ upon you. Through a curse. A tandem curse to be specific. A bond, in most cases, requires consent."

Snape sank back into his chair. "A tandem curse," he muttered.

Hermione opened her mouth, but McGonagall put a hand up, silencing her. "Let me finish."

"It seems that you triggered a trap of sorts when you restored the wards. It was obviously meant to hurt a much larger crowd. I can't imagine what kind of damage it would have done if it had been set off during the final battle …" McGonagall trailed off.

"As opposed to the insignificant amount of damage it actually did do," drawled Snape, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

"You know that's not what I meant, Severus," said McGonagall, feeling very tired all of a sudden.

Hermione closed her eyes. "I still don't—"

" _What_ exactly are the complications?" Snape cut off.

McGonagall adjusted her glasses. "It seems that the curse has lodged itself inside … the two of you, and what it is trying to do is bring its pieces together. That means that if you are too far apart, or away from each other for too long, you will be sick in terms of nausea and …eh…"

"Rashes, headaches, a feeling of deep anxiety," said Madam Pomfrey, who had been quiet up until now. She had insisted on being there for the conversation, and was sitting on a small sofa near the fire place. "All of which you have already experienced."

"Thank you, Poppy," said McGonagall quietly.

"But," said Hermione, now very pale. "I'm feeling fine right now, and have been for, I don't know, the last couple of hours. Could it have worn off?"

"Are you completely daft?" sneered Snape. "When does anything just _wear off_?"

"Severus!" said McGonagall sharply. "No, Miss Granger. It's not quite that simple. The reason you have been feeling alright is because you have … Well, I suppose it is due to the fact that you have-"

"Been near _me_ ," finished Snape.

Hermione stared at Snape, and then at the floor. "Is there a counter curse?" she asked weakly.

"Well, not as of yet," said McGonagall. "But we have Gilbert Moss and … What was that other man's name again, Poppy?"

Madam Pomfrey gave McGonagall an odd look. "Ralph Kimper, I believe."

"Ah, yes. From the _Spell Damage Specialist Unit_ at St Mungo's. They are working on your case feverishly and—" McGonagall stopped. "Miss Granger? Are you alright?"

Hermione had risen from her chair, one of her hands gripping the back of it tightly. "Actually, no." She swayed slightly on the spot. "I-I need some air," she stuttered, and began backing away towards the door.

Madam Pomfrey half-rose out of her seat. "Miss Granger-Hermione," she said. "This is a lot to take in, but—"

"I need to …" mumbled Hermione, now almost at the door. "I-I can't breathe."

"You're having an anxiety attack," said Madam Pomfrey, a little more insistently. "Please, come here." She patted on the cushion next to her. "You need to sit down."

Hermione stopped for a moment, her hand on the door knob, seemingly trying to take a couple of deep breaths. Then she shook her head violently, wrenched the door open, and before anyone could stop her, she had disappeared down the stone steps.

"You have to go after her, Severus!" gasped Madam Pomfrey. "Hurry!"

"Poppy's right," said McGonagall. "She might hurt herself!"

"Then she only has herself to blame," sneered Snape. "I refuse to take responsibility for Miss Granger's emotional instability."

McGonagall stood up abruptly, almost knocking over her chair. She slammed her fist down on her desk, ignoring the pain shooting up her arm.

"Miss Granger has _every_ right to be upset," she said, her chest heaving with anger. "You call it emotional instability, _I_ call it a perfectly sane response to an utterly insane situation!" She gave him a long look. "This is distressing for you as well, Severus, I am well aware. But you will _not_ use Miss Granger as an outlet for your discontent. Am I making myself clear?"

"Perfectly," Snape gritted out.

"Good," said McGonagall with finality. "Now go find her."

 **ooo**

Almost twenty minutes had passed when Snape finally found Hermione, sitting on the front steps to the castle.

"Miss Granger," he said as smoothly as he could manage. He was feeling nauseous, the foul taste of bile rising up in his throat. He swallowed hard, trying to keep it down.

"Please leave me alone," said Hermione, not looking up.

"That option is not available, I'm afraid," he said. "I'm to escort you back to the office." He made a sweeping gesture towards to the doors. "The Headmistress' orders."

"No," said Hermione simply.

Snape watched as she wiped at her face with her sleeve. He sighed inwardly, thinking of a different approach. "May I sit down?" he asked.

"I can hardly stop you," answered Hermione, drawing up her knees and wrapping her arms around them. She looked cold, even though it was a rather hot morning. The sun was blazing down from a cloudless sky, and in the distance, the Great Lake was completely still.

Snape lowered himself down next to her, shooting her a sideways glance. He could feel the nausea subsiding, fading away and disappearing almost completely, in a matter of seconds. The sensation was unnerving. It was because of _her_ , of course. Being _close_ to her. He shook his head. This curse was a joke. A farce. A humiliating nightmare. He scowled, pushing those thoughts aside.

"How can you be so calm?" muttered Hermione, as she brushed imaginary lint off her jumper. "You hardly seem bothered at all."

Snape quirked an eyebrow at her. "Do not presume that you know _anything_ about me, Miss Granger. As much as I loathe to be in this situation, I also recognize the fact that running away crying isn't going to solve anything."

Hermione shot him an angry look. "I wasn't running away crying! I was almost losing my mind in there! I _had_ to leave!" She made a sound of frustration. "We wouldn't be in this situation at all if you hadn't been a complete arse!"

Her reaction didn't surprise him the slightest, quite the contrary. He would have been more worried if she had stayed quiet. Still, he didn't like being called an arse. "Language, Miss Granger," he drawled.

"I couldn't care less about propriety at this point," snapped Hermione, turning her face away from him.

Snape scratched at a spot right above his heart. She was right. He _was_ to blame. He shouldn't have forced her, pushed her. But it had been so easy to slip back into that role. The role where he was the predator and everyone else the prey. He felt a rush of shame at the thought of it. He wanted to believe that he had changed. He _thought_ he had changed. He paused that train of thought.

"Yes, alright," he said, finally. "I suppose I am … _partly_ to blame."

That earned him a glance, a disdainful snort and an eye-roll.

"I am not apologizing to you, Miss Granger, if that's what you are expecting," he said, a little harsher. "Not in this lifetime or the next. I am merely stating the fact that I regret some of my actions that day." He stood up, thinking the conversation was over. Hermione, however, remained sitting.

He cursed under his breath. "Despite what you might think, I rather enjoy being alive," he said. "I don't claim to know all the side-effects to this curse, but suffice to say, I am not taking any of them lightly."

Hermione gazed up at him, looking utterly perplexed. He might as well have been speaking in Mertongue.

"What I'm trying to say _is_ ," he emphazised. "That _I_ can't leave unless _you_ come with me." He nodded towards the doors. "Now get up."


	5. Chapter 5 - Tea Is Almost Never the Solu

**Chapter Five  
Tea Is Almost Never the Solution**

"Welcome back," McGonagall said from behind her desk when Hermione and Snape entered the Headmistress' office for the second time that afternoon. She gestured towards three cups of tea and a kettle in front of her.

"I made tea."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she plopped down in one of the chairs. "Tea," she scoffed. "I need a _solution_. Not tea."

"Now, dear," madam Pomfrey piped up from her place on the sofa near the fire. "Tea is always—"

"Not now, Poppy," McGonagall said quickly, then pursed her lips. "I won't force it down your throat, miss Granger, I just thought it would give us something to do while we are trying to figure this out."

Hermione's face softened for a fraction of a second. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I'm not usually like this, it's just—" She raked a hand through her hair. "This is completely insane."

Snape nodded in agreement and reached for the kettle, pouring tea in the two cups closest to him. He turned to Hermione, pointing to a small crystal bowl with sugar. Hermione shook her head. Snape handed her the cup, put two scoops of sugar in his own and then sank back into his chair.

Hermione looked down on her cup, losing herself in the flowery pattern for a moment. "I hadn't even decided if I was going back here this year," she admitted bitterly, swallowing down the lump in her throat. "But I suppose I have no say in that particular matter anymore."

McGonagall gave her a pitiful look. "Few things in life are really ours to preside over."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Deeply profound words, Headmistress," he drawled. "And completely unhelpful."

"I was merely—" McGonagall shook her head. "Look," she said and clasped her hands together. "I don't think there's much we can do right now but to put our faith in the hands of the experts at St Mungo's. We simply must accept what is for now and make the best of it."

A sudden, unwelcome thought almost had Hermione dropping her cup. "I won't be able to take Potions!" She hadn't listened to a single word McGonagall had said.

"Well, no," said McGonagall, slightly taken aback by Hermione's abrupt non-sequitur. "I don't think that would be wise."

"But what about my N.E.W.T.s?" Hermione continued a little shrilly. "I'll need Potions for … for … everything! All of the jobs at the Ministry require N.E.W.T-grades!"

Snape sat perfectly still, seemingly entranced by a crack in the far wall. "I'm sure we will find an adequate solution to your scheduling-problem, Miss Granger," he said evenly. "As it happens, I'm not the only one qualified to teach Potions at this school."

He looked McGonagall straight in the eyes. "I'm more worried about … living arrangements."

"Living-what?" spluttered Hermione, really dropping her cup this time, the contents spilling out on the rug underneath them. She pulled out her wand, whispered _Evanesco_ under her breath, then stuffed the wand away again, quickly.

"Severus," said McGonagall, wincing noticeably. "I don't think—" **  
**  
"If we can't stay apart for more than a couple of hours without _dying—_ "

"Yes, yes, you're right." McGonagall took off her glasses and began wiping them vigorously. "Poppy might be able to make some room in the Infirmary. You can sleep there, for now."

"I'm not sleeping in the Infirmary!" Snape snapped.

Hermione closed her eyes. She felt like she was about to faint. Again.

"Severus, really, _where_ will you sleep if not in the Infirmary?" McGonagall asked.

"In the dungeons, of course," Snape said.

"That is out of the question!" McGonagall said exasperatedly. "With no one to overlook—"

"Overlook _what_ exactly?" Snape said in an acidic tone. "Two people _sleeping_?"

McGonagall made a frustrated sound. "Do _not_ imply that I meant—"

"Stop!" Hermione finally found her voice. "I can't take this! I'm not _sleeping_ anywhere until I find out _exactly_ how long we can stay apart!" she said angrily.

Snape snorted and folded his arms over his chest.

"That has already been taken care of, Miss Granger," said McGonagall, a little calmer. "Madam Pomfrey has a well-grounded theory about your timeframe based on the observations she did while you both were … well, while you were in the Infirmary together. And while you were apart."

Hermione gave McGonagall a look of disbelief, then spun her head around to where madam Pomfrey was sitting. "And what did you find?"

Madam Pomfrey looked like she was about to cry. "It seems like one hour is the limit."

" _One_ hour?" Hermione practically shouted. "But that's … I won't even be able to … to do _anything_ without him!" She pointed a shaky finger towards Snape.

"This is hardly thrilling news for me either, Miss Granger," Snape said with a frightening calm in his voice.

"There's something else," McGonagall said.

"No," said Hermione, shaking her head. "I don't want to hear it."

"If … or rather _when_ , you feel overwhelmed by the side effects," McGonagall continued. "Headaches, nausea—"

"We're aware of side effects," Snape said, touching the spot above his heart that had been itching for the last couple of days. "Get on with it."

"Yes, well, holding hands might help," McGonagall said very quickly.

The room went dead quiet.

"Absolutely not," Hermione said after what felt like an eternity.

"Agreed," Snape said.

McGonagall shrugged nervously. "It's merely a suggestion … Should the need arise."

" _No_ such need will arise," Snape said and stood up brusquely. "Are we done here?"

"Well," McGonagall glanced at Madam Pomfrey. "I suppose."

"I'll have the house elves tidy up your rooms, Severus," Madam Pomfrey said. "I would much prefer it if you transfigured your bed into two single ones—"

"Poppy!" McGonagall said sharply.

"Let me finish," the matron said. "But I know the circumstances might make that, eh, difficult for you."

Snape shook his head. "I am not discussing this."

"I trust you both to ...well, these are extraordinary circumstances, I don't think I need to tell you which rules apply," McGonagall said.

"Certainly not," Snape bit out.

"For now, I would suggest you eat something." McGonagall glanced at the clock on the wall. It was well past 9 pm. "And then return to Severus' rooms."

"But what about …" Hermione began, but stopped, swallowing hard.

"What about what, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked.

"What about Ron? she said. "What do I tell Ron?"

McGonagall closed her eyes for a second, tapping her fingers against the desk. "I believe that is a problem for tomorrow."

 **ooo**

After a quick detour to the kitchens, Snape and Hermione had walked to the dungeons. They hadn't spoken more than a couple of words since they left McGonagall's office.

Now Hermione found herself standing next to Snape's four poster bed, dead still. She had used his bathroom, brushed her teeth and put on a pajamas in a trance, not even taking in her surroundings. She was on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, but her body wouldn't move. Couldn't move. On the opposite side, Snape was throwing away the covers. When he noticed that she wasn't helping, he glanced up. **  
**  
"Have you suddenly lost all abilities in your limbs?" he asked irritably. "Don't just stand there."

"I am not calling you 'professor'," Hermione blurted out. "Not if we're sleeping together."

Snape stopped abruptly, giving her a horrified look. "Oh, for crying out loud," he said. "We are not _sleeping_ together."

"But we are!" said Hermione. "And I will _not_ tell my _professor_ that I … that I might need to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night!" She thrust a hand towards the bathroom door.

"Then don't," Snape bit off. "You don't have to tell me at bloody all."

"But what if I really must go and I'm away for some time and … you suddenly feel … feel ill, and you don't know where I am!" Hermione said, the words catching in her throat.

Snape climbed into bed and pulled the covers tightly around him. "This is ridiculous," he muttered.

"Yes." Hermione was suddenly hit with a wave of nausea. "Yes, it's ridiculous but—" She sat down on the bed, unable to finish the sentence.

Snape shot her a look, hearing the sudden change in her voice. "Miss Granger?"

Hermione put her head in her hands. "I'm not feeling too well."

"Then get into the damn bed!" Snape said angrily.

Hermione swayed slightly, a cold sensation running through her veins. "No," she moaned.

"Stop acting like a child," he said, a hint of desperation in his voice now.

"Fine," Hermione gritted out, reluctantly crawling under the covers and edging as close to Snape as she could without actually touching him. "But I'm definitely not holding your hand."

"Miss Granger …" said Snape, stiffening beside her. "I am too tired and frankly too nauseous myself to have the strength to argue about this with you." He reached out and touched her hand under the covers. "Let's just try to—" Hermione reacted as if he had stung her, withdrawing her hand with lightning speed.

"Forget it, _professor_ Snape," she said testily. "I'm not holding hands. Not with you. Not in this bed. Oh my god," she said, suddenly overcome with a new wave of nausea combined with the absurdity of the situation. "This is just … It isn't right. Nothing in this scenario is right," she rambled. "I can't believe I'm going to sleep with—"

"All right," Snape cut off, grinding his teeth so loudly Hermione could hear it. "All-bloody-right. You win." He paused, seemingly at war with himself. "You may call me … _Severus_. Does that make you happy?" He pinched his eyes closed. "But only when we're alone," he added instantly. "And we're not _sleeping_ together!"

Hermione scoffed, turning her body slightly towards Snape and taking his clammy hand in hers. She immediately felt a wave of warmth flowing through her body and at the same time she heard Snape give a contented sigh. Relieved at the sudden feeling of being able to take a deep breath and not having an urge to vomit she gave Snape's hand a little shake, "I can't say it's good to finally meet you, Severus, but nevertheless, here we are," she said soberly. "My name is Hermione Jean Granger."

Snape grunted, halfway asleep already. "Please go to sleep, miss Granger" he mumbled.

Hermione started to withdraw her hand again, but Snape strengthened his grip. "I'm terribly sorry," he said, through gritted teeth. "Please go to sleep, miss _Hermione_ _Jean_ Granger."

"Hermione will do just fine," Hermione said, yawning widely. "And-eh-Severus?"

"Yes," he bit out.

"I feel like I should tell you that I'm …" She stopped for a second. "That I _really_ am with, eh, Ron," she said. "If-eh-you should get any ideas," she continued awkwardly.

Snape whipped his head around, facing her. "I'm _not_ going to get any ideas."

"Right," she said quickly. "Good night then."


End file.
